I had planned on writing a “sorta” movie review article about the two movies I saw last Saturday with my sister and her boyfriend. The kind of article where I wouldn’t even discuss the movies until the very last line, which would be: “Oh, and the movies were good.” But after being underwhelmed by both The Skeleton Twins and Gone Girl, I find myself unable to write the article I’d planned. I don’t think the movies are “bad”; I just wanted something more from them. I wanted to walk out of each movie feeling that my time wouldn’t have been better spent just by staying home and watching The Fly again.

So, since I am not writing the article I’d planned, should I write instead about the cleanliness of the theater? The fierce salt-butter-popcorn smell that smacked me in the face in that pleasant smack-you-in-the-face kind of way? The drinks we got at the Granville between shows? The giant raccoon that hangs around our apartment building and was thankfully not waiting for us when we got home? Maybe I should just ask myself, “Why was I underwhelmed by those movies?” and see where that question leads me…

Well, I don’t know exactly why I was underwhelmed. I find that question a difficult one to answer sometimes. Do you always know the reasons why a movie does or doesn’t work for you? If there had been some annoying shaky-cam shots, or some atrocious acting, or some rampant Nicolas Cage hair, this article would be an easy one to finish. But, technically, everything seemed pretty swell.

The performances in both films are good, I think, and sometimes great—and who am I, anyway, an acting scientist? Rosamund Pike, as the girl who’s Gone, has now officially given her best performance yet, I’d say. Prior to this film, she mostly played the part of a breathtaking woman who sometimes utters words and phrases, but no more. In Gone Girl she is…something else. And Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig, the Twins who weren’t really skeletal, have both proven that their dramatic chops can at least approach the heights of their comedic ones. So what was it that made the movies only so-so for me? Would it be easier if I just wrote about the raccoon?

Rex Reed (whom I’ve often disagreed with) said in his review of Gone Girl, “There’s nobody to root for or care about.” And I have to admit that I also feel that way about it, even if I did find myself really liking the sister character played by Carrie Coon. But I don’t know that not being able to root for characters was the only reason I wasn’t on the edge of my seat as much as I expected to be. Which brings me to another idea: Maybe it was my expectations that got the better of me (at least in the case of Fincher’s work). I’m such a fan of his that I just knew the movie would blow my mind.

Think of that scene in Zodiac, for instance, where Jake Gyllenhaal is down in the basement with that creepy guy and—well, I won’t spoil it for you except to say that it’s pretty tense. Or that scene in Fight Club where Edward Norton’s character is about to be permanently falsettoed… That scared me. Both of those scenes truly scared me. Other great scenes from another film (though not by Fincher) come to mind, too. And they are the scenes in The Silence of the Lambs. All of them. Remember those?

I never felt that kind of tension while watching this newest Fincher film. A few of the sibling-turmoil moments in The Skeleton Twins felt more tense, to me, than the tensest moments in Gone Girl, and they didn’t even involve real skeletons!

But I still don’t know exactly why the movies didn’t do it for me. I might as well try to answer why I find black licorice so disgusting. Or why I like dogs more than cats. Or why I can’t seem to force myself to drink more water even though I know I should.

Did you like Gone Girl or The Skeleton Twins more than I did? Did you just sort-of like them, as I did? Did you hate them? Feel free to comment on any and all things involving anything I said. And don’t forget to go to the movies. Because, even when you’re underwhelmed by them, you just went to the movies!